Three's a Crowd
by Dark Aegis
Summary: I love company, you know. I just don’t care for it when it decides you or your friends make a tasty meal. An Eighth Doctor and Charley Pollard story
1. Chapter 1: For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Title:** Three's a Crowd  
**Authors:** Gillian Taylor  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Eighth Doctor, Charlotte Pollard  
**Summary:**_ I love company, you know. I just don't care for it when it decides you or your friends make a tasty meal._  
**Spoilers:** BF Audio _Storm Warning_  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.  
**Archive:** Sure, just let me know.

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to my fabulous betas WMR and NNWest. Written for Acestar in Ponygirl's Solstice Fic Exchange. Acestar requested:

1. A 'dead end' chase - the typical 'running into a back alley with a brick wall at the end' type affair  
2. The Doctor baffling someone with science/logic (though this is pretty much the norm!)  
3. Something in the TARDIS going wrong (again, getting to be normal for the new series, at least)

* * *

**Three's a Crowd  
by Gillian Taylor**

**Chapter 1: For Whom the Bell Tolls**

It started with a sound.

It was a low, deep tone that was barely audible beneath the movement of thousands of wings. She didn't notice it at first. She was listening to the breeze, the fluttering of the butterflies, and the sound of her own heart. It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Almost a holiday from a holiday.

Charlotte Pollard, Edwardian adventuress, on holiday. Yes. She liked that. After the past few days of one death-defying adventure after another, it was nice to relax. To take a break. To listen to the butterflies, watch them land on her clothes, her hair, and her nose. To watch a sea of colour – blue, red, green, chartreuse, and amber – dotted across the seemingly infinite landscape.

The TARDIS was a wonderful machine, a beautiful home, and she was always astounded by it. Just as she was astounded by the clock garden, or the cloisters, or the sheer size of the ship. She'd thought her trip on the R-101 would be exciting, dangerous, and thrilling. It had been, of course, but only because of him.

The Doctor.

She smiled, ignoring the small shiver that always coursed through her soul at the thought of him and of that day on the R-101. She knew that something dreadfully wrong had happened that day – something associated with her – but she tried to ignore it much as he did.

Her mother hadn't brought her up to ignore problems for long, but for now, she was busy having fun. And a holiday.

A holiday with...

Was that a bell?

As if that realisation were a trigger, the world tilted sideways and she found herself sliding across the grass toward the doorway.

"Doctor!" she cried, digging her fingers into the dirt in a desperate attempt to prevent injury.

She still slid. Inch by inch, she couldn't gain purchase. Her fingers couldn't hold on.

"Doctor!" she cried again.

And then it stopped.

No more sliding. Up was up, down was down, and she was safe. However, safety was only illusory. She suddenly felt herself lift into the air before slamming back into the ground.

As she fell into unconsciousness, her last thought was of the Doctor.

Where was he?

* * *

Oh, where had he hidden that TARDIS manual? Last he'd remembered it was in the library. Or was it the kitchen? Maybe he'd thought to bring it out for a late night read? Or an early morning read, or, or...Oh! Yes. It must be in the library. 

He darted past thousands of books that were written, had yet to be written, and might be written from almost all the ages of the universe. There was one particular section where it'd be most likely to reside.

Ah, yes.

"Mechanics!" he announced, holding out his arms as if he wanted to embrace the bookcase. Of course. Must be here. "TARDIS manual, TARDIS manual," he murmured as he traced the spines.

"No, what's this doing here? Rudyard Kipling's 'The Jungle Book'? That can't be right." His brow furrowed as he pulled the book off the shelf.

Wait a moment. Did something fall? He could've sworn that he'd heard something. Barely noticeable, but something. However, when he looked around, he saw nothing. Shrugging, he returned his attention to the book and flipped idly through the pages. "Oh, first edition. Signed, too. Forgot about that." With a brief shrug, he put the book back onto the shelf. It might not belong there, but he'd sort it out later.

For now, he wanted the TARDIS manual.

He'd barely started searching for the book on the other shelves when it happened. It began low, but it always did. A bell. And not just any bell, either.

The Cloister Bell.

Abandoning his search, he ran out of the library, intent upon reaching the console room. He barely had the time to spare a thought for Charley when the internal gravity changed. Barely managing to catch himself before he slammed into the wall, he tried not to slow his frantic pace.

Internal gravity change. Cloister Bell. What could've happened? Time anomaly? No. Those tended to toss them about a bit, but it'd never affected internal gravity before. A signal of some kind? Remote control? They had passed through the time-space shadow of a black hole that was exactly six point seven five kren off-centre with the rest of the universe? No. That was too easy.

It was never that simple.

When he reached his destination, his eyes were immediately drawn to the sparking console. "Oh, you poor old thing," he murmured as he fought his way across the perilously sloped floor. Good thing all of the heaviest objects in the room had already accumulated on one side. It was, after all, hard to work when one was dodging flying furniture.

"Right. So, what've we got here?" he asked, bracing himself against the console. First things first. He needed to sort the gravity. Too many chances to hurt oneself in the TARDIS, for one thing. Charley. Oh, dear. Hopefully she'd found a nice, soft landing spot and stayed put.

Hopefully.

Now. Fixing the problem. He only had the symptoms, not the cause. But best to treat the symptoms first. Internal gravity. If he just reached under the console...here. Pulled that wire bundle there. And pulled out that power crystal...

The world righted itself before he had a chance to change his position. He ended up in a rather undignified heap on the floor.

It could never be easy, could it? He sighed as he picked himself off the floor, brushing off imaginary dust from his velvet coat. The console had thankfully stopped sparking, but he could still hear the low gong of the Cloister Bell echoing ominously through the TARDIS. Which meant they still had problems.

From the instruments, it looked like they were temporarily stable. Best to look for Charley and bring her back to the console room where he could keep an eye on her. It was a plan.

So, with a final check of the controls, he set off deeper into the TARDIS calling her name. Though if she were unconscious, she wouldn't be able to answer. No. He wouldn't think like that. She was fine. Found a nice landing spot and stayed put. Yes. That would be exactly what she'd've done.

However, he recognised that all he was doing was deluding himself. Charley was almost as apt at finding trouble as he was – and that was an impressive feat.

* * *

She awoke with a throbbing headache and the distinct sensation that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Charley groaned faintly as she rolled onto her back, wincing as the movement brought the pain to a crescendo. "Doctor? What happened?" she asked, keeping her eyes firmly closed. 

That was when memory returned. The butterfly room. She was in the butterfly room – or had been - and the room had tilted for some reason and she had slid toward the doorway. And something else. It had stopped? And she'd floated for a moment and then nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except for the headache.

She murmured a very unladylike curse and opened her eyes. At least she was still in the butterfly room. Though why that particular thought had crossed her mind, she was uncertain. Right. Get up, find the Doctor, and figure out what had just happened.

It was a good idea. The best. The rest of her limbs seemed to be in working order. Only thing wrong was the headache, but that couldn't be helped. She sat up and paused as the world swam before her eyes. Once it'd stopped, she forced herself to her feet. Her stance was a little wobbly, but it could be forgiven. Now she had to find the Doctor.

She had barely decided to head for the door when everything changed.

The normally blue 'sky' in the butterfly room darkened, almost as if a storm were brewing overhead. However, she knew that it was anything but natural. For all its beauty, the grass never seemed to need rain. It was timeless. A perfect spring day caught in a bottle, except now something had altered the bottle. Something had changed.

_It's looking for you._

It was an impression, not words, that curled through her mind. She was in danger. The bell. She could still hear the bell, only its notes had seemed to gain a more desperate timbre. It fed her fear, and the emotion lent speed to her feet as she began to walk, then run, toward the door.

That was when she began to sense it. Looming over her shoulder, chasing after her, as she sped toward relative safety. In the TARDIS proper, she could hide. Finding the Doctor suddenly lost its priority in the need to run. If she found him while she was running, that would be best but, otherwise, her intent was to flee. Normally, she'd confront her fear and laugh in its face. But, this time, something told her that that would not be her best course of action.

_It's coming._

Reason fled. Instinct took over. And she ran.

With it, whatever it was, following behind.

* * *

Tracking collars. A bit beyond Charley's relative time, admittedly, but there were times that they'd be useful. Such as now. Then again, he should've thought of it sooner. That would've proved useful considering how many times his companions had been injured, captured, almost blown up, held for ransom, attacked, or almost swallowed by some sort of monster. 

But this was the TARDIS. The TARDIS. Nothing could get inside her – at least, it was very, very, very difficult to do so. Impossible, improbable, and unlikely were just a few of the words he had at his command to describe that possibility. And that was just in English. That didn't count the forty thousand words from other languages from across the universe.

None of which was helping him find Charley. "Charley!" he shouted. "Charley, can you hear me?" Of course, if she couldn't hear him, she wouldn't answer. "Brilliant question, Doctor. And, if you're not careful, you might just start talking to yourself."

Silently chiding himself – this time – he tried to determine just where his errant companion might have hidden herself. The library? No, he'd been there when the systems started to fail. Her bedroom? Probably not. She'd told him that she was going to...what was it? "Think, Doctor, think." He used to be good at that. Thinking. Remembering conversations.

"Oh! Of course. The butterfly room!" He grinned brightly and changed directions. She'd probably be in there. Annoyed, yes. Possibly hurt. But safe. And, once he found her, they could start sorting whatever mess they'd found themselves in.

That was when he found himself facing a wall that shouldn't be there. He blinked, confused. "I'm sure this was the way to the butterfly room." Must've taken the wrong turn. Shrugging slightly, he turned and tried a different route. Through the garden, past the medical centre...

Another wall.

His brow furrowed. "I swear that I know the TARDIS like the back of my hand." To demonstrate, though he didn't have anyone to speak to beyond himself, he held out his hand. When he looked down, he realised that it was palm up. "Right." Could he have got lost on his own ship?

No. Impossible. This was the TARDIS, _his_ TARDIS. He knew her halls, knew her rooms. Something was wrong. Beyond the gravity shift, beyond the Cloister Bell. Something else...but what could it be?

The secondary console room should be around here somewhere. He could drop in and check the internal scanners. It might be a faster way of locating Charley and of figuring out what had gone wrong with the TARDIS.

What if the TARDIS had moved the butterfly room?

She did have the tendency of shifting rooms now and again, but that didn't explain the wall. No. There must be something else. Automatic defence? No. That hadn't worked in years. Couldn't be that. Unless something else was on the TARDIS with them...

No. He'd already reasoned that that was impossible, improbable, and very unlikely. And, even if something _had_ managed to get on board, what was the likelihood of it being able to affect the internal dimensions and systems of the TARDIS? He did a few quick calculations and sighed. Astronomically against, yes. But, knowing his luck, it was still possible.

He changed directions again, passing by different corridors, different rooms, intent on reaching the secondary console room.

Another wall.

"That's not right. One wall, I can accept that maybe I took one wrong turn. A second wall was suspicious, but maybe it was another wrong turn. But three? Three definitely makes a conspiracy." He turned. Main console room. Charley would have to take care of herself for the moment. She was resourceful. Competent. He had every faith in her. Besides, this was the TARDIS. What could go...

A wall. Another bloody wall.

So something didn't want him to have access to the console room. Right. He had other options.

He turned and set off for the library. It'd all started there. Might as well end there, too. Provided that the library wouldn't turn out to be another beginning. Knowledge was power, after all. Books were some of most powerful weapons in his arsenal, but he did wish that he could've reached the console room and the TARDIS' scanners.

What if his original assumption was wrong? What if something _had_ managed to invade the TARDIS? Something malicious? Something that wanted...what? He couldn't interpret the motivation of 'something'. That was impossible. He needed a name, a species, anything that could give him some sort of idea of just what he might be dealing with.

He'd half worried that the library might've been blocked off, or that he might find himself in a rapidly shrinking box – that had happened once before and once was definitely enough. However, the fates were smiling upon him when he opened the double doors and found himself surrounded by books.

"But where to start?" he asked himself as he stepped inside. He'd been looking for the TARDIS manual before the gravity had been altered. Could that have had something to do with the problems? Say, something had known he might've found the manual and realised that the systems were behaving incorrectly and it chose to correct the problem in the only way it could? No. That'd be giving it, whatever _it_ was, more credit than he suspected it deserved.

"Now, Doctor, you can't make assumptions," he scolded himself. And he couldn't. Couldn't assume that something had invaded. It could just be a systems malfunction. But since when had a systems malfunction prevented him from reaching rooms on the TARDIS? He'd ejected rooms before, yes. Romana's bedroom came to mind, but the TARDIS couldn't've ejected the butterfly room, could it? And sent Charley out into the vortex with it?

No. He refused to even consider that possibility.

So, TARDIS manual then. He dashed through the aisles of books, dodging those items that had fallen to the floor during the gravity shift.

When he reached the mechanics section he realised that he had a problem. A very large problem.

The mechanics section – and by extension the TARDIS manual – was gone.

His mind whirled with calculations, considerations, and possibilities. This wasn't a coincidence. It wasn't just happenstance. It was calculated. Coldly calculated. Because without the manual he might not be able to solve the problem.

This was wrong. All of it, every second of it, was wrong. Books didn't just disappear. The TARDIS wouldn't cut off sections of the ship. A systems malfunction wouldn't do that.

Which meant one thing.

They had company.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2: The Curse of Dracula

**Chapter 2: The Curse of Dracula**

When she finally paused to catch her breath, her side had already begun to ache. While she'd had to run far more often in her travels with the Doctor than she had before, even she had limits. Limit number one was, of course, that when fleeing an indescribable _something_ there was only so far she could go before she ran into a dead end.

She knew it was coming after her. Specifically her, though she had no idea why. Even the feeling that had spurred her flight seemed to have vanished, leaving her panting to catch her breath and with one hand pressed against her ribs.

"Think, Charlotte Pollard," she commanded herself, keeping her voice to a whisper. She was at a dead end, yes. Something was chasing her, yes. So she had to turn around, go back the way she came, and find another route.

Only problem was that she was certain the way back would only lead her into its clutches. Oh, botheration. She'd have to give it a name beyond 'it' or 'something.' It was hard to even think about without some sort of moniker.

Dracula. That would work. It was Dracula.

Right. Now that that was decided, she had no choice. Back the way she came. She turned and headed back at a brisk pace, straining her senses to hear Dracula's approach – provided, of course, that she could hear it. She'd seen fantastic things with the Doctor. A monster that made no sound would only be one of them.

Best not to think about it, she decided, and continued to listen.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Maybe she'd dreamed it? Maybe this was a nightmare and all she needed to do was wake up? Just to be certain, she pinched herself and winced at the pain.

No. It was real.

Wonderful.

That was when she first saw the silver cat. It stared at her for a moment with wise emerald eyes before it turned and ran through – yes, through – one of the closed doors that lined the hallway. She blinked. The TARDIS had never had a cat as far as she knew. Nor had she sensed that the cat was Dracula. Instead, it seemed to want her to follow it. Follow a cat? What was next? A white rabbit?

She heard it, then, scratching its way down the corridor. Dracula. It was Dracula, she knew it. She could sense it.

_It's coming, Charley..._

She couldn't wait. She had no choice. Two paths she could follow. Down the corridor, retracing her steps and into Dracula's grasp, or following the cat.

"Well, Alice, down the rabbit's hole it is," she murmured and opened the door.

* * *

So, company. Normally he loved company. Sharing a spot of tea, scones, and a lively discussion by the fireplace. Wonderful, that. What he didn't love was as yet un-named entities making themselves at home in his TARDIS. Especially when said creatures disrupted the normal operations of his ship and, quite possibly, caused injury to his companion. 

Right. Enough of that. He had to think. The mechanics section was gone. But maybe, just maybe, he could figure something out from what he did know. "Lists!" he exclaimed. How obvious!

Best to find something to write the list on, which meant paper. Paper, paper, ah. There it was. A lovely sheet of paper conveniently resting by his feet. Perfect. He leaned down and picked it up, barely noticing that one side already had something scribbled on it. "Now, a pen. Definitely mightier than a sword. It defeats me every time I try to search for one."

It was a library. It'd only make sense to have a stash of pens and paper for any time he might decide to scribble some interesting observation either in the margin of a book or else just for his own amusement. However, that was assuming that said stash hadn't migrated to wherever the mechanics section went to.

He turned and hurried toward the mahogany desk. Been years since he'd last actually _used_ it, beyond it being a convenient resting place for the odd book – or dozen – or stray manuscript – or twenty. The drawer squeaked loudly as he pulled it out, the force of the movement causing one of the precarious towers of books to collapse in a flurry of dust. However, he didn't pay it much attention. He'd found what he was looking for.

Right. So, what did he know? He pulled the top off the pen and tapped it against his lips. It, whatever it was, could affect the TARDIS systems. He lowered the pen to the paper and stopped.

That wasn't right.

This was supposed to be a clean sheet of paper. Not have someone's meaningless scribbles all...

Oh.

Oh!

_Omnivolinus chronoliensis._

"Omnivolinus chronoliensis!" he exclaimed after re-reading the words. "Stupid, Doctor! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He should've known. Or, at least, he should've guessed.

But why would a chronovore want to attack the TARDIS? It was a TARDIS, after all. They passed through the vortex all the time. There was nothing special at all about his TARDIS. Nothing...

At...

Charley. Oh dear. Charley! Of course!

"What do chronovores love to eat? Temporal oddities. Little fragments of time that shouldn't exist. Oh no. Charley...she's a buffet table to one of these creatures. Right. Think, Doctor. There's got to be something you can do to drive it off. And keep it out. But what?" He tapped the pen against his lips again, his brow furrowed in thought.

Never in all his lives had he been as conscious of the slippage of time.

A second was gone. The chronovore might've caught Charley, or she could be hurt and needing him.

Another second.

He had no time.

He had to think of something. He was a brilliant Time Lord. He'd debated philosophy with Socrates, invented new branches of science to deal with the anomalies that he'd discovered, and played games with masters of all disciplines. Surely the simple problem of a rampaging chronovore would be easy to solve.

Provided, of course, that he stopped thinking three-dimensionally. Eight dimensions. It was a transdimensional creature, existing in eight dimensions at once. Eight dimensions.

"Yes! I can use that!"

With the merest glimmer of an idea in mind, he shoved the paper into his pocket and charged out of the library.

He needed to get to the lab, and quickly, before one of two things happened.

One. Charley was eaten. No. It wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. He'd make certain of it.

Or two. The TARDIS' internal dimensions began to break down due to the influence of the transdimensional creature. If she broke, nothing could prevent the chronovore from consuming the lot of them. Right before they were crushed out of existence, of course.

He rather preferred the third option, where he saved the day.

Then again, so would Charley.

* * *

Darkness. 

She was surrounded by it, soothed by, protected by it. Nothing could find her here. She was safe, as safe as she could be. Even Dracula seemed miles away. Nothing could touch her.

Here, there was peace.

Here, there was safety.

Here – where was here? – there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Nothing could be, would be, or ever was. It was safety, but it was solitude. It was protection, but it was a cage.

"Doctor," she whispered, and she was shocked by the hoarseness of her voice. What had happened? Where was she? Where was...

Light.

Much as the darkness had soothed her, the sudden light burned. She cried out as she raised her hands in an unconscious gesture to shield her eyes. So bright, so white. Where had the light come from? It'd been dark. Pitch black. And, now, it was bright. Brilliantly so. When the light no longer hurt, she carefully lowered her hands.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were white. Brilliant, blazing white. She frowned as she turned around. The door was gone. What had she done? Chosen to follow after a cat rather than face Dracula? How was this better?

At least outside she would've had a chance. Some sort of chance to escape. A possibility of finding another part of the TARDIS to hide in. She might've been able to find the Doctor. Instead she'd chosen to follow her own white rabbit and this was her reward.

Trapped.

In a white room.

"Blast," she murmured as she began to trace out the room with her steps. Forty two strides took her from one side to the other. Exactly one hundred and seventy took her around the edges of the room. While she walked, she felt the walls for any tell-tale cracks that would indicate a doorway.

Nothing.

She was being held in a room without any doors. Wonderful.

It was her own fault for following that cat. It was probably in league with Dracula...

A loud yowl of protest caused her to jump. It was there again. The silver cat was staring intently at her with a look of what seemed to be insult in its eyes. Insult? A cat? Surely she was imagining things.

The cat slowly blinked and tilted its head. Almost as if it were questioning something. Her thoughts? No. That was impossible. It was a cat. Admittedly it was a cat that walked through walls, but she must be rational about this.

She got the distinct impression that the cat was laughing at her.

"No one asked you," she told it tetchily and folded her arms before her. Right. The room had no doors. But she'd got in somehow. Which could only mean that there was a way out. But...what if this room was meant for something in particular? If it offered her some sort of protection?

_Safe here, Charley…_

She sighed. Safety was relative. Always was, always would be. But she had to get out. What if the Doctor needed her?

The cat growled low in its throat as it sauntered toward her, the bright lights casting an ethereal sheen on its silver coat. There was no threat in its movements, only a warning. A warning, she suspected, that meant, should she leave this room, she'd fall right into Dracula's clutches.

Wonderful. Trapped in a white room, with no doors, and a bossy feline. Ensnared for her own protection. And, not only that, she was attributing the cat with more intelligence than it should have. It was a cat.

_No, Charley. More..._

A shiver ran up her spine. What was it? If it wasn't a threat, if it didn't want her, why was the cat here? What did it want?

_Safe…_

It wanted her safe. But why?

"Why me?" she asked, dreading the possible answer. The cat did not speak, nor did any sensation pass through her of a response.

That was when she realised something else.

The cat's emerald eyes looked sad.

* * *

Oh, he was lucky. Very, very lucky. Most likely the luckiest Time Lord in the universe, really. Sure, he had a chronovore on board who intended to eat his best friend. And, yes, his TARDIS wasn't up to snuff. But the lab was still there. 

Everything still worked. And, even better, he still had his sonic screwdriver.

A bit of wire here. A twist on the settings there. A bit of twine there and an old carburettor from Bessie right next to it… Oh! He mustn't forget to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow and…

"Oh, Doctor, you're a genius!" he congratulated himself as he held his creation aloft.

It didn't look like much. Just a chronoscope with bits of wire and metal attached at odd angles, but it'd work. And work well.

It wasn't often that he got to design and build a trap that was specifically aimed at chronovores, after all. Especially not when it would cause a rip in space-time to emerge inside the TARDIS, draw the chronovore to it, and give it a one-way ticket off his ship and back into the vortex.

He really _was_ brilliant.

No more time for self-congratulations. He needed to find Charley, and find her fast. There wouldn't be much time left now. While he'd been mucking about, trying to figure out just what had gone wrong, Charley was probably being chased by the chronovore. He could only hope that she'd found somewhere where she could hide. Somewhere safe. Somewhere shielded.

But how could she?

She didn't know the TARDIS as well as he did. Without help, she wouldn't be able to find, say, the Zero Room. Oh! The Zero Room! Stupid, Doctor. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course. That'd be the perfect hiding spot.

How would she _find_ it, though? Without his knowledge of the TARDIS, she could be lost for years. If she'd found the Zero Room and stayed there, she'd be safe. But if she hadn't… No. He wouldn't think about it. There was only so long one could run. She couldn't escape from it forever.

"Stop it, Doctor," he commanded himself, to little avail. How could she continue to escape when the TARDIS' corridors were being re-arranged at random by their friend the chronovore? The far too intelligent chronovore.

Right. Enough of that.

He needed to find the chronovore.

Now.

Charley, he reasoned, was fine. Had to be. He didn't want to consider what might've happened to her if she wasn't.

It was time for a little hunting trip. And to reduce the amount of 'company' on his ship to those who belonged there.

Just Charley and him.

As it should be.

_To be concluded..._


	3. Chapter 3: All's Well that Explodes Well

**Chapter 3: All's Well that Explodes Well**

Once upon a time, when she was still a child, her mother had told her to wait patiently while she went to speak to a doctor. She had, for a time, until boredom overtook her. She wanted to do, to see, to touch, to taste, to play -- anything but sit still in the overbearing mahogany and leather waiting room. So she had moved, had played, had darted around the room, pulling books off the shelves, and strained to reach the interesting figurines that had been perched precariously on the too-tall shelves.

When her mother had returned, she found her daughter surrounded by the results of her play and a disordered room. She hadn't felt guilt at that time. She'd been bored and patience was a virtue that she had never been blessed with.

She certainly wasn't feeling very patient now.

The white walls of the room were too bright. The floor was too hard. The cat too smug. She had to wait patiently until Dracula was gone. Then, and only then, would she be able to leave.

"Oh, Doctor." She sighed his name and rubbed at an imaginary stain on her skirt. It amazed her sometimes that she had chosen to place so much trust in him. She knew he'd do anything to keep her safe.

Perhaps this was his way of keeping her safe now. Safe and sound and trapped within this single room. Protected by both the room and the silver-coated cat. But what about him?

What about the Doctor, stuck outside this tiny haven with only Dracula for company?

She shook her head and stood, pacing the room in a useless attempt to work off her worry. She wanted to be out there, with him. She'd never asked for this. Never asked to be protected, never asked to be locked away from danger. She was Charlotte Pollard, Edwardian adventuress. She didn't hide from danger. She faced it.

Except for now.

"Botheration!" she said and sat back down in a huff. She didn't fancy being eaten, of course. But what if she wasn't? What if she avoided Dracula, found the Doctor, and helped him in some way? What if she managed to stop Dracula on her own?

What if, what if, what if...

"Ow!" The sudden sharp pain caused her to look down in shock. One long, shallow scratch marred the skin of her hand. She shot a glare at the silver cat, caught in the moment of it retracting its claws. "What was that for?"

_Safe here..._

Oh, yes. She mustn't think about escape. Mustn't think about leaving safety, because Dracula might eat her.

Oh, bother that! She stood quickly and began to walk toward where she assumed the door might be.

_NO!_

She staggered both from the force of the sensation and the feel of the cat's sharp claws digging into her as it climbed her side. "Ow!" she protested as the animal finally found a precarious perch on her shoulder and stared intently at her.

The Doctor might need her. She…

The cat's emerald eyes were oddly hypnotic, she thought absently as she sank back to the floor.

No…she should just stay…

right…

here…

Safe…

The last sensation that she remembered before she drifted off to sleep was the low rumble of the cat's purr as it pressed against her neck.

* * *

"Oh, chronovore! Dinner! Yum-yums!" he called as he walked through the TARDIS' corridors. The device hummed pleasantly in his arms, giving him a false sense of security. At least, it seemed false. There were no guarantees that it would work. He might be brilliant, but even he had limits. However, he refused to consider any other options. This would work. He'd defeat the chronovore and save Charley just in time for afternoon tea. Yes. That would be perfect.

That was when he heard it, scratching against the walls of his beloved ship as it approached him. Yes. Perfect.

He thumbed the switch to activate the charge. Five minutes until he could see if his hard work had paid off. Five minutes for him to distract the chronovore. Five minutes had never seemed so long.

When the creature rounded the corner, he realised that he'd forgotten how ugly they could be. While he loved life in all its infinite forms, he suspected that only its mother could truly love the chronovore. Its shape defied description. One moment, it was vaguely dragon-like. The next, it was a writhing mass of darkness. The next it was humanoid-shaped, its fathomless black eyes reflecting an alien intelligence. Transdimensional creatures weren't known for keeping one identity, one form. It was all or nothing for them.

And they were always hungry.

"Oh, come for dinner?" He grinned widely as he mentally urged the charge to keep building. "Did you have fun meandering the corridors of my ship? You realise that it wasn't polite of you to come in uninvited. A nice knock on the door would be enough. Can't guarantee that I'd let you in, of course. Especially since you're not selling anything of interest."

"Time Lord…" Its voice was like the winter, chilling, cold, and cruel.

Since when had he started carting about a sign that declared his identity through time and space? Oh, right. Chronovore. He knew that he cast a shadow through the dimensions, through the past and the future, that such entities were sensitive to. Of course it'd know. The hum of the device increased its pitch. "Yes?" he asked, still grinning.

"The anomaly...belongs to me. Protection won't last."

Protection? Protection! Oh his beautiful, fabulous, fantastic, _brilliant_ ship. He knew where Charley was! She was safe! And in the Zero Room! Must be! Oh, he _loved_ the TARDIS. He felt fairly giddy with relief, but the danger wasn't over yet.

"She belongs to no one but herself," he corrected, willing the device to rip the hole in the space-time continuum at any time. Any time now would be preferred.

"The anomaly doesn't belong. You know my function, Time Lord. You cannot stop me." The chronovore moved closer, now in the shape of a dragon, its sharp teeth bared in a grimace of a smile.

Yes, he knew its purpose. Of course he did. It fed off anomalies, such as Charley, to maintain the web of time. Just as Rassilon intended. Damn him anyway.

The device was vibrating intensely now, its hum reaching a fever pitch. He looked into the chronovore's black eyes and answered, "Watch me."

And space-time ripped apart.

He lost control of all twenty-seven of his senses, each affected differently by the impact of the vortex within his ship. His poor, beautiful ship screamed around him. He couldn't keep the rip open for long without tearing her apart.

"Focus, Doctor!" he commanded himself, forcing his eyes open - when had they closed? - and saw - tasted? - the terrible beauty of the vortex before him. Thin tendrils of something faintly golden reached toward him and the chronovore, but he moved back, kept away. He couldn't let it touch him, he knew.

Never let it touch him.

_Not yet…_

The whisper of thought curled around his mind as the chronovore screamed its defiance. Golden tendrils surrounded it, cocooned it, enveloped it, and it was slowly drawn back into the maw of the storm.

Inch by pain-staking inch, it was pulled in. "This isn't over, Time Lord!"

But it was. The chronovore had lost. It'd lost!

_Close your eyes…_

The command was soft, but compelling. He did as it asked and, through the red-tinged shield of his eyelids, he could see a brilliant flash of light. A wave of heat blew past him and the device in his hands began to rumble dangerously.

_Throw it…_

Again, he obeyed. There was no time to consider what had given him the instructions, what was helping him. He knew his danger. So he tossed the device down the corridor and dove to the floor, shielding his head with his arms.

Another explosion ripped through the TARDIS, rocking the ship with its force. But it was minor, very, very minor compared to the rip in space-time.

Then there was silence. After the noise of the past few minutes, the quiet was deafening. Even the Cloister Bell had stopped. The tear was gone. The chronovore was gone.

It was over.

There was something that he was forgetting, he realised as he forced himself to his feet. Aches and pains revealed themselves from the force of his impact, but he ignored them. He was fine. But what about Charley?

Charley!

Yes. He must find her, make sure she was safe, and that the explosion hadn't hurt her. He looked at the blacked section of corridor before him and sighed as he patted the wall. "I'm sorry, old girl."

With another mournful glance at the corridor, he turned and headed for the Zero Room. First things first, next things next. And first, he'd find Charley. Then, with her in tow, he'd fix the TARDIS.

The TARDIS. What if the voice was the TARDIS? No. That was impossible. She'd never done anything like that before, if it was. However, his time ship could always surprise him. Anything was possible.

But, if it was, he smiled as he whispered, "Thank you."

It might've been his imagination, but he thought the ship's standard hum deepened in response.

Oh, how he loved his TARDIS!

* * *

"Charley!"

She heard his voice at the edges of her consciousness, caught between sleep and wakefulness. There was a desperation lacing her name that she'd never heard before, but it was such a struggle to open her eyes.

Wait a minute. She was asleep? Asleep? At a time like this, when Dracula was just outside, and the Doctor...

The Doctor?

He hadn't been there before, she was certain. There was a cat, she distinctly remembered a cat. It'd scratched her and...then nothing. Nothing until she heard her name.

"Charley!" he said again, and she could hear the soft rustle of fabric as he knelt at her side. She fought against the compulsion to sleep, to open her eyes, to reassure him that she was fine. But it was hard. So, so hard.

His fingers gently touched the pulse-point on her neck and she heard him sigh in relief. "Sleeping? I've just saved the TARDIS and her, invented the means of fighting off a transdimensional creature, and she's sleeping. Figures. Charley! Time to get up! We've got places to go. Haven't shown you Cerulia yet. Fantastic planet, gorgeous crystal caves. You've just got to be wary of the cave spiders. Sharp fangs. But you'd love it! Come on Charley, get up!"

_Get up._

The command lanced through her mind, banishing the fatigue in an instant, and she opened her eyes.

"Doctor," she began before she got a good look at him. He looked like he'd just been through the wars. His velvet coat was singed, his hair was mussed out of its usual curls, and soot covered his face and hands. He looked wonderful. "Oh, Doctor! It is you!" She couldn't help herself. She flung her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze before she released him. "But how? There was this cat, and I couldn't get out - or it wouldn't let me out - and... How'd you get in here?"

He grinned widely. Great. She knew that look far too well. "Through the door, of course."

Vaguely, she wondered if a court of law would convict her for wanting to kill him. But that wasn't important. What was important was… "Dracula!"

He blinked, apparently confused. "Dracula?"

"Whatever that, that creature was. It was chasing me. Didn't want to keep thinking of it as, well, 'it' so I gave it a name."

"But Dracula?"

She shrugged. "It certainly wasn't a Frankenstein. But, Doctor, what happened to it?"

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and his brow furrowed, as if in thought. "Well, technically, it was reduced to its component particles due to the influx of a ten-thousand krenin pulse of chroniton energy. The interaction of its biomass with the chronitons, which happened to be its one-hundred and eighty krell polar opposite…well, we won't have to worry about your Dracula anymore."

She looked at him blankly. "If that was English, Doctor - which I doubt - I have no idea what you just said."

He grinned. "I opened a portal into the space-time vortex. The interaction between the transdimensional chronovore and the vortex resulted in its being pulled back into the maw of the storm. Either that, or it was destroyed. Can never really tell with chronovores. But, regardless, it's gone. And I'm going to be updating the TARDIS shielding to make certain it can't come back. I love company, you know. I just don't care for it when it decides you or your friends make a tasty meal."

She still had no idea what he meant, but it was enough to know that Dracula was gone. That was when she also noticed that her furry 'friend' had disappeared. "Doctor...you wouldn't happen to have a cat on the TARDIS, would you?"

He blinked and appeared confused. "How would you know about Wolsey? Left him with a friend a while back… Did you find one of his toys?"

Something must've been evident on her face because an understanding look appeared in his eyes. "Oh. _Oh_! I think I know what you mean. Wouldn't happen to be silver and have green eyes?"

She nodded. "Yes, exactly! And, Doctor, it walked through a door! Cats can't do that!"

His smile turned enigmatic. "Can't they?"

He could be so aggravating sometimes. She shook her head. "You know they can't! They're cats. As physical and as real as you or me. Walking through a door isn't possible! It just isn't, well, rational."

"Then perhaps you should consider the more irrational answer. When is a cat not a cat?"

She could feel a headache coming on. "A cat is a cat is a cat."

"Except for when it isn't," he corrected.

No question about it. The courts wouldn't be able to convict her. It was self-defence for her own sanity. "Doctor..."

His expression turned sympathetic. "It protected you, didn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes. It did, even when it attacked me, I knew it was trying to protect me. But, Doctor, what is it? Or was it?"

"It was what was needed. That's all." He shrugged faintly and offered her his hand. "Come on, Charley! No use hanging about in the Zero Room! We have places to go, you know. Important, dazzling places. Places where the sky's on fire, the ground's made of glass, and the cities resound with song. Places where your breath changes colours depending on your mood. Can you imagine that?" He laughed brightly and, as she accepted his assistance, he pulled her to her feet. "Your breath changing colours! I've always wondered what joy looked like. Or wonder. Or curiosity. Shall we see?"

She laughed. His joy always was infectious. Though he hadn't answered her question, she knew him well enough to know that he never would. But there were things to do and places to go. It wasn't worth worrying over his secrets. She had a universe to explore, and a place where her breath changed colours sounded brilliant.

Her smile widened into a grin as she nodded. "Oh, yes, let's!"

So they did.

**THE END**


End file.
